'Cotton,' I wailed, 'is threepence a reel.'
'Bad as that, Meg?'
'Worse, my honoured parent, worse.'
'Wild oats, Meg?'
'Sacks.'
'Debts?'
I nodded.
'Tell me the uttermost, my erring child.'
'Fourpence to Nannie, and five and threepence to Ross.'
I escaped into the bathroom and slammed the door. I sang a hymn as I bathed; it was that one the children love so, 'Days and Moments Quickly Flying.' I thought it might help to restore the tone of the household.